


If It Feels Good, Tastes Good

by servecobwebheadaches



Category: Panic! at the Disco
Genre: Belly Kink, Food Kink, Gluttony, M/M, Praise Kink, Smut, overstuffing, stuffing kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-14
Updated: 2016-02-14
Packaged: 2018-05-20 08:41:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,995
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5999389
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/servecobwebheadaches/pseuds/servecobwebheadaches
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>". . . such a good little glutton . . ."</p>
            </blockquote>





	If It Feels Good, Tastes Good

**Author's Note:**

> If you don't like what's in the tags, leave. Sorry. May be triggering if there's a problem with food/eating. Here. Happy Valentine's Day, you kinky fuckers.

Brendon had a photoshoot, with which Ryan had nothing to do with aside from dropping Brendon off. Brendon was somewhat irritated with the whole thing, since it was taking up most of his day off. Ryan did his eyeliner, assured him that he looked great, and spared them enough time to kiss each others' lips red before leaving their home.

Brendon wore black skinny jeans and dress shoes, a form fitting black button up, and a contrasting white and silver suit jacket. His hair stuck up neatly, and his eyes seemed to be a lighter brown than ever. Ryan gazed at him when he got out of the car, wondering how someone so beautiful could be bored with showing it off in front of cameras. Brendon smiled at Ryan outside the car window and blew him a kiss.

It was sunset when Ryan picked Brendon up, and Brendon was surprised to find Ryan dressed up in a suit. "What's this?" He asked, looking Ryan up and down.

Ryan shrugged. "Taking you out to dinner."

"Oh," Brendon said, voice dropping in what sounded like disappointment.

"Do you not want to?"

"I kinda just wanna go home, but it's fine."

"We can if you want. I can cancel the reservation—"

"No, no. You made reservations? That's sweet."

"Yeah, I thought maybe you'd want to go out."

The restaurant was as high class as Ryan and Brendon's outfits implied. The table was candlelit, and had a white tablecloth draped over its surface. Brendon felt better as Ryan grabbed his hand across the table.

Ryan ordered a large salad and a bowl of soup as his meal, and Brendon ordered a piece of lasagna. Ryan contently listened to Brendon talk about the photoshoot. "At one point, someone told me they wished I was wearing more eyeliner, as if this isn't enough," he said.

"You don't really need it to begin with, gorgeous."

"Thanks, babe, but—" Brendon was cut off by the waiter serving up their food, large portions set down in front of them to give them something else to talk about.

"How is it?" Ryan inquired after a couple moments.

Brendon looked up, and perhaps it was just a shadow of the candlelight—Ryan thought—but Brendon's eyelids seemed to droop a bit over the irises. "It's so good," he said with a bite to his lower lip. Ryan tilted his head to the side, fascinated, not expecting the sultry drop in Brendon's voice. "I could eat a fucking tray of this." The single sentence induced the perfect mental image for Ryan—Brendon standing against a kitchen counter, fresh pan of lasagna in front of him, fork in hand. He's determined to finish off the whole thing; there's tomato sauce smeared on and around his lips, his stomach pushes forward with the amount of food he's swallowed down. It shouldn't have sexual appeal, and yet—Ryan blinked. Brendon smirked back across the table. "And it's so rich, I would be so full . . ." he continued.

"You just want to get laid," Ryan said flatly.

"Yeah, and what are you gonna do about it?"

Ryan licked his lips. "What am I gonna do about that? Well, I'm gonna tell you to finish your dinner, and we'll make sure you're well fed before we get you home." Brendon's lips parted in a satisfied smile, and he continued eating. Ryan slowly ate his salad, watching Brendon steadily chew and swallow. Ryan figured with the size of the portion Brendon had, most people would've called it quits halfway through. Brendon easily ate through it, one hand grasping his fork, the other over what Ryan assumed to be his belly. Or crotch. Whatever was pleasing to Brendon in the moment.

Brendon cleared his plate, and Ryan was still picking at his salad. He handed his bowl of soup over to Brendon, and simply said, "Finish it."

Brendon nodded. "Thank you."

Ryan half heartedly wondered what Brendon was plotting for when they arrived at home, but couldn't focus much while watching Brendon eat. Brendon stopped as the waiter came back to the table. "Any dessert for you tonight, or just the check?"

"Um, dessert, yeah," Ryan said, finally looking away from Brendon. His eyes skimmed over the menu that remained on the table. "I think the ice cream cake will be good, thanks," Ryan said.

"Alright," the waiter said, and walked away.

Brendon gazed at Ryan with wide, innocent looking eyes. "You're really stuffing me tonight, love. Feels good," he said breathily.

Despite Brendon's love for working Ryan up in public, sometimes Ryan thought Brendon didn't know he was doing it.

"You like that . . .? You're doing great," Ryan praised.

"I can take more. I want more," Brendon said.

"I know you do."

Ryan didn't touch the cake, pushed the plate closer to Brendon. It was enough for two people, but Ryan wouldn't have thought to deny Brendon any of it. Brendon shifted in his seat a few times—Ryan knew that it was either Brendon trying to give his stomach more room, or get some friction to his probable hard on.

Brendon swallowed the last bite and looked at Ryan expectantly. "How do you feel?" Ryan asked.

Brendon smiled timidly. "I'm really full . . . I bet I look it, too."

"You ate a lot, but you love all of it, don't you? You'd probably eat more, wouldn't you, if I put it in front of you." Brendon nodded once again, leaning all the way back in his chair. Ryan chuckled. "But I'm not going to. I wanna get you home."

"Mm hmm. Fuck, I'm stuffed," Brendon groaned, just for show.

Ryan exhaled. "I'm sure you are."

They paid the bill and Ryan walked around the table to help Brendon up. The jacket of Brendon's suit mostly covered up his distended belly, but Ryan could tell the way it was pushing against the buttons, filling up the typical extra space. Brendon walked on Ryan's right side, and Ryan put his right arm around Brendon's waist, his left hand splayed over Brendon's abdomen. He looked protective, hovering over Brendon, but he had just been craving to touch him all night. Brendon loved the attention.

Ryan parted with Brendon, only momentarily, to get in the car. Ryan pulled out of the parking lot, and curled his fingers tightly around the steering wheel. "I feel like I'm gonna pop. Like these buttons, holy shit," Brendon sighed. Ryan listened to Brendon move to unbutton his jeans, undo the zipper. He started on the lower buttons of his shirt, but Ryan stopped him.

"Wait," Ryan said, placing his hand over Brendon's. He glanced over at Brendon for a split second to see his eyes cast downwards, both his hands stilled on his belly. Ryan reluctantly slipped his hand away, although he didn't want to stop touching, wanted to feel up Brendon's belly, palm at his crotch until he came, right there in the car.

Ryan needed to stop fantasizing. He didn't need to be distractingly hard before they even got home.

Brendon's hand creeped across the console to Ryan's belt buckle, then down the front of Ryan's pants. Ryan's breath hitched at the sound of Brendon's tantalizing voice in his ear. "Ryan, baby, look what you've done to me," Brendon crooned, cupping the bulge in Ryan's pants. "I feel all round and swollen. I think I need to go home and just lay down. Oh, I'm so bloated . . ." He rubbed his thumb over the tip of Ryan's cock through the fabric, kissing down Ryan's neck while nuzzling his face into the curve of it.

"Stop that," Ryan said just as his hips bucked up. "I'm driving."

"Oh, was I going to make you come just like that? No, I better not." Brendon sat back in the passenger seat. "Wouldn't want to ruin your clothes," he added.

Ryan drove the rest of the way home painfully hard, anyway. It seemed that Brendon needed physical contact, but Ryan was stubborn on keeping out of each others' pants until they got home, so they only held hands the rest of the way.

Ryan rushed around to the other side of the car when they pulled in, to open Brendon's door and take both of his hands, help him up. Brendon looked up to lock their lips together in a heated kiss, Ryan holding him close. Ryan whisked them inside the house, and pressed Brendon back to the inside of the door to kiss him harder. Brendon pushed his hips forward to grind desperately on Ryan's leg.

"Let's get you to bed," Ryan said roughly.

Without taking off any of Brendon's clothes, Ryan pushed him back on the bed and got on his knees next to him. Ryan unbuttoned Brendon's shirt all the way down from the collar over the protrusion of his belly. The jacket and shirt fell open at Brendon's sides, revealing some of his visible ribs, the open button and fly of his jeans. Ryan placed both his hands over Brendon's belly and kissed him again. "You ate so much tonight, so good for me, baby boy," Ryan said. "You look so . . . so gorged."

"Ryan," Brendon whined, "feed me more. Please, it would be so hot."

Ryan hesitated. "Feed you more? Like, right now?"

"Please."

"Oh, Brendon, you greedy boy. I thought you were full, but you just want to keep on eating and eating. Greedy, greedy. What am I going to do with you?"

"Indulge me. I'm a glutton, and you get off on watching me eat, watching my belly swell up. Feed me yourself."

Ryan's cock twitched at those words.

"I don't know what we have, but I'll feed you until you can't take any more, how would you like that?" Ryan said.

"Yeah. You decide how much I can take, stuff me until I look how you want me to. It feels so good." And Brendon had submitted fully, handing over all his control to Ryan.

"I'll get you your food. Don't you worry."

Ryan walked out of the bedroom, leaving Brendon laying there, and looked through the fridge. He wasn't going to waste time heating anything up, or cook something. Instead, he grabbed the whole pre-made, store-bought peanut butter pie sitting in the refrigerator. Ryan and Brendon were supposed to take it to a party they'd been invited to that weekend, but Ryan decided in the moment that they could buy something else, that feeding Brendon was more important.

Ryan returned to the bedroom with a fork and the whole pie, and he stood next to Brendon. He put a few pillows under Brendon's neck to prop his head up a bit. "You ready?" He asked Brendon, who laid there with his eyes closed and his hands on the sides of his belly.

"Yeah," Brendon breathed, eyelids fluttering open to see what he was eating.

Ryan scooped a bite out of a slice of pie and put the fork to Brendon's lips, where Brendon wrapped his lips around the fork and took the bite. "Mm, it's thick," Brendon hummed.

"Good," Ryan said quietly, and fed Brendon another bite.

It was slow, feeding Brendon the first slice. Brendon savored it, and licked the slight remnants off his lips. "More?" Ryan asked, and Brendon was eager to accept.

At first, Ryan was just worried that he might accidentally stab Brendon's lips with the fork, so he stopped using it, but he realized he could feed Brendon faster, and with more control, only using his hands. He pulled a large chunk off the end of a slice and put it past Brendon's lips. Brendon didn't comment, just took it and blinked up at Ryan for more. Ryan smirked and broke off another chunk, letting Brendon lay completely still and simply eat. Ryan crammed a bit more in Brendon's mouth, before he swallowed.

Ryan kept Brendon's mouth full, feeding him bite after bite. He would be concerned that Brendon couldn't take it, but he kept letting out moans of pleasure, eyelids fluttering. The pie was a little less than halfway gone when it crossed Ryan's mind to look away from Brendon's lips and down his body—finding Brendon's belly bulging even more than before. He was massaging the sides in slow circles, to relieve some tightness, like it was a painful knot that anyone would get—though it was the swelling bulge of his belly, and Ryan couldn't resist the need to touch, to feel. He set the food down on the bedside table, which finally gave Brendon time to swallow down the food his mouth. Ryan placed both his hands flat on Brendon's chest and carefully slid them both Brendon's body, slow and deliberate. He had pie covering his fingertips from feeding Brendon, and the frosting-like substance got all on Brendon's skin, but neither of them cared.

Brendon let his arms fall to the mattress as Ryan's settled low on his stomach, directly above his opened button. Brendon shivered at Ryan's touch, Ryan's fingers pressing into his skin and soothing the ache. "That pie isn't gone, is it, Brendon?" Ryan said, voice smooth. "No, keep feeding those greedy lips of yours."

Brendon's hands shook as he reached for the plate, eyes clouded with arousal. Ryan bit his lip and stared at him, Brendon's hair messed up, face pink and hot, pie smudging his lips and chin. Brendon couldn't hold eye contact with Ryan, eating another bite of pie. Ryan could feel the shift of Brendon subtly spreading his legs. "You're so full . . ." Ryan kept massaging Brendon's belly, growing more aroused as Brendon stuffed himself. "So full . . . and you don't even try to stop eating, just stuff more and more, such a good little glutton . . .well, maybe not so little." Ryan spread his fingers, using his palms to caress. Little noises escaped Brendon's throat, whimpers. "I don't think I've ever seen you so full, baby boy." Ryan was being truthful, and they'd done this plenty of times. Ryan had even watched Brendon polish off a dozen cream filled donuts by himself, but that hadn't bloated Brendon as much as this. "Look at you, Brendon, look, at how big you are." Ryan massaged slowly down the sides of Brendon's belly, the skin taut and pink.

Brendon squirmed for a short moment and then moaned, the movement too much for his stuffed belly. He slowly chewed and swallowed another shoveling of pie, eyeing the last slice and a half. Ryan was impressed with how far Brendon had gotten, and pressed featherlight kisses to Brendon's lower belly. "Ryan . . ." Brendon breathed, tossing his head back. Ryan's fingertips soothed across the end of Brendon's ribcage, right where the curve of Brendon's belly began. Brendon couldn't contain his noises through the next few mouthfuls of pie.

"You're almost done, lover. I can't believe you ate so much, you're so good, so good." Ryan's words barely made it to Brendon, through the fog of desperate, lusty need in his mind. Brendon put down the plate, with one slice left on it, reaching for Ryan, wanting some attention to his cock. Ryan looked up into his eyes and smirked. "Aren't you going to finish that? Or do you need me to hand feed you?" Ryan kept a hand splayed on Brendon's belly, but reached up for the plate. He picked the whole slice up and held it to Brendon's lips, continuing to watch Brendon take bites, crumbs falling on his chest. Ryan's cock throbbed in his pants, and he was tempted to thrust against Brendon's hip while feeding him, needing something, some relief. Brendon was keening by the time the pie was gone, all crammed in his full gut. He panted, so much sensation from Ryan's hand resting on his food-laden belly, whispering filthy praises in his ear that he couldn't quite register anymore.

Ryan settled back between Brendon's legs, working Brendon's pants down his thighs, and slipped his own jacket off. "Tell me, Brendon," Ryan said, undoing the top buttons of his own shirt, "what you want me to do to you." He palmed at Brendon's neglected cock through his boxers.

"Fuck, Ryan," Brendon whined. "Something, please, anything, fuck, fuck."

"You've been good to me tonight," Ryan said, slipping Brendon's boxers down to his knees. He dipped his head to mouth at the head of Brendon's cock, tasting him, before taking him all the way down. Ryan's head was spinning, looking up with half lidded eyes to see the swell of Brendon's belly.

Brendon cried out when he came, gripping the sheets. Ryan swallowed and pulled off, licking his lips. He moved back and stood up, looking Brendon's body up and down. Brendon's chest was heaving, and he looked at Ryan with wide eyes. Ryan slipped his shirt off, then dropped his pants to the ground. Naked, he climbed back on the bed, and wrapped his fingers around his cock, needing release.

Brendon, with one hand on his belly, reached out to touch Ryan's cock. Ryan's hips bucked into Brendon's hand, and he came, spilling onto Brendon's belly and hand.

Ryan collapsed onto the mattress beside Brendon, shuddering. "Morning shower," Brendon said. "There's no way I'm getting up right now. I feel huge."

"Yeah," Ryan said, "yeah."

Brendon struggled to sit up with a groan, supporting himself with one hand and rubbing his belly with the other. He was overstuffed, and even that was an understatement. Ryan helped him take off his unbuttoned shirt and jacket, tossing them aside. He laid down, his back to Ryan, trying to soothe the ache. But his belly rubs were nothing compared to Ryan's, and luckily, Ryan put an arm around him and stroked his belly, getting rid of the pain.

Brendon was pretty dazed and out of it before he fell asleep, Ryan's fingers working magic on him. He belched and sighed in relief, some pressure alleviated. Ryan giggled in his ear and kissed his neck. Brendon nuzzled into it, comforted and well-fed.

 


End file.
